OH GOD I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG!
I kept thnking out how the story was going to play out in my head, and just never wrote it down. I kept putting it off and off and off, BUT now it's almost done!
I originally planned for this to be a 2-shot, but it really needed to be split into 3.
So without further delay, part 2 of 3!
America paced the perimeter of the ship. It had been 3 weeks already, and this ship was a far cry from the luxurious vessel France had originally taken him on. The sailors were unclean and crude and the ship had really seen better days. But it wouldn't be long now. Three maybe four days, then the ship would hit France, and America would be able to be with France again. Of course, only if France still wanted him.
America had run away from France. Abandoning him for England just as France had started to hope for something more. He would probably feel betrayed. Maybe he wouldn't even like America anymore. He could only hope for the best as his ship sailed onwards.
When the ship finally made port in France it took America almost the entire day to find France's house. England had only taken him to France's house once when he was very little, and recalling the exact location was quite hard. After many wrong turns and streets leading in opposite directions, America found himself staring blankly at the door of Fances' house.
What now? Should he knock? What if France answered the door? What was he going to say? Maybe America was a little hasty. He didn't even know if France would want to see him anymore. What if France hated him? Then where would he go?
The door swung open suddenly and America looked up to see a tall snotty looking man.
"Are you going to come in and fix this horrid mess or stand there like a babbling idiot? I hear it's quite normal in your country."
America stumbled over his words for a few moments, unsure of what to say, what to do, and how this man knew all that he did.
"You better fix this. Don't fuck it up again you American swine." The man grabbed America by the collar and dragged him into the house. He didn't let go as he pushed America's meager possessions to the floor and pulling America through the long corridors like a dirty tissue.
He stopped at a large door, pulling America to his feet and re-arranging his collar and clothes.
"Do what you need to do boy."
And with that, he was pushed through the door.
America tried to stifle his gasp as he was pushed into the room. He had to try even harder to stop the next gasp as he took his first glance at France.
The man was a mess. His hair messy and unwashed. His face covered in a full unkempt beard. His clothes dirty and wrinkled, as if he had been sleeping in them day and night. America had never seen the man in such a state. It hit America like a ton of bricks that he was the one to cause France to become this way. It was all his fault, and he needed to make everything right again.
America cleared his throat quietly to get France's attention but the Frenchman did nothing more than flinch.
"Francis…" America tried to keep his voice strong, but it wobbled like a toddler taking its first steps.
France's head snapped up, his eyes locking on America's.
"Alfred? Is that you?" France sat up a bit straighter, his entire body screaming his timid-ness.
America just nodded, not knowing what to say. France scoffed, turning sideways in his chair and looking up to the ceiling.
"Just another hallucination no doubt" The older man spoke as his hands grasped blindly for the mostly emptied bottle of wine by the foot of the chair.
America watched as France took a long swig of wine.
"You know, drinking won't make me go away Francis." Gaining confidence in himself America started walking towards France. A walk that seemed much longer than it actually was. He didn't let himself stop till he was inches away from the distraught man.
"Francis. I'm right here." He couldn't think of anything else to say.
France looked towards him, his eyes a little glazed over, a drunken haze fogging his vision as he looked over America. The younger took hold of the bottle of wine setting it on the floor and taking the now empty hand in his.
"Francis. I'm really here." He let himself down on the ground. Half kneeling half sitting on the floor beside France's chair, holding France's hand in his, pressing it to his face like a raft keeping him from the icy waters.
"I'm really here. With you, not with Arthur. I never would have guessed that when the man I had been in love with for more than half my life finally accepted me, that it would feel so wrong. I thought Arthur was everything I wanted Francis… But he's not. You changed that. You changed me. All I can think about is you. All I want to do is to be with you. I don't know how you did it Francis but you changed me. And there is no going back. There is only one place I want to be now, and that's with you."
France turned his head towards America, his brain hardly believing the words coming from that arrogant American's mouth. Those words France had been wishing for, for longer than he cared to admit. He watched as America turned his eyes away from France's own deep blue, hiding in embarrassment as he continued.
"I know you have every right to hate me Francis. All you ever did was love me and spoil me and shower me with all your affections. Taking care of me and just… fuck Francis you were so good to me. And I just turned my back on you, and walked away like it was nothing. I'm sorry Francis, and… and you know how hard it is for me to say something like that. I'm sorry. I want to stay with you Francis. I uhh…"
America froze, the words halting on his tongue, as if saying them would break him into a million pieces.
"Francis I just… I think I umm… I think, I might possibly… well… I might possibly really like you… a lot."
France was frozen in shock just as America was frozen with fear. Shock of America, the unruly stubborn nation of independence, confessing his like (and like was not a far cry from love, France knew this). America, in fear that after all he had done to France, their chance had been ruined by his blindness.
France moved so quickly America didn't register the movement till he was trapped by the older nation, flat on his back as he looked into the shining face of the nation of love.
"Alfred. Si tu plait. Tell me this is not a hallucination. Si tu plait. I dream of this all the time. Si tu plait. Tell me."
America chuckled as he embraced France tighter. "It's real Francis. I am really here." It took all of America's courage to lean up and place a small chaste kiss on France's bearded chin, and that was all it took to convince the Frenchman that America was really there.
The kiss was more mind blowing than America thought was possible. France's tongue quickly plundering America's mouth, wiping away his every worry with ease. It felt like the kiss lasted for hours, neither getting bored of the wonderful sensations.
When they did finally break apart, gasping for breath, France pulled America onto his lap as he took a seat back in his chair.
"Alfred, please, I know my appearance is not pleasing at all right now, but please, just let me sit for a while. Let me hold you."
And who was America to deny France this? So they sat like that for a while. France, holding America tightly. America, with his arms wrapped equally as tight around France, his head resting comfortably on France's shoulder, just listening to the others breaths as they enjoyed being together.
The silence was broken as the snobbish man pushed open the doors, taking only a few steps in before speaking curtly.
"Sir, I've prepared a bath and the shaving kit." And with that he left the room.
America lifted his head from France's shoulder, looking up into the older mans face, searching for a reaction. France opened his eyes a hand lifting to pet America's head, his fingers playing lightly with the short hairs near the back of his head as he contemplated weather sitting with America, or a nice hot bath and a clean face was better.
After deciding he would wash and then sit with America, France lifted the smaller nation off of him and stood up stretching his lithe body out.
"You will wait for me while I fix myself up properly?" He asked the question as if he expected America to answer with 'no'.
Of course, America nodded, and France took his hand and pulled him out of the room, and towards what America assumed was his private rooms. France's bedroom was well decorated and lavish, just as America had expected it to be. The bed was so large, America was sure four men could have comfortably slept together on it. A rich and soft looking fabric, almost see-through, draped over tall banisters over the bed, the sheets looking warm and comforting.
"Wait for me here mon ange. I will be quick." France placed a soft kiss on top of America's head before walking towards large snow white double door leading to France's private bathes. America decided that France wouldn't mind if he tried out his soft comfy looking bed.
It was everything America thought it would be, and more. He burrowed further into the covers as he waited for France, trying not to think about what would happen next. He had just left England behind. In the middle of England's attempt at wooing, and loving him America had bolted, and left him for France.
It seemed no matter what America did, he was hurting someone. He only hoped England would not hate him for this. But he wouldn't be surprised. America knew you hardly ever got to have your cake and eat it too.
When France came out of the bathroom, he was his normal, exuberant, clean shaven, smiling, loud, French self. And America was glad for it. He sat up and smiled from the bed, France moving so gracefully to the bed, America could have sworn he floated. He landed on the bed with a grunt as he rolled over beside America, smiling gracefully.
"You do not understand how happy I am that you are here Alfred." He leaned forwards, slowly, still afraid he would upset the smaller nation, and pecked him on the lips before shifting closer and pulling the American into his arms.
America flinched as someone cleared their throat loudly, followed by a knocking at the already open door.
"Sir, it is understandable you want to lay with this savage for the day… However your excursion to Britain and then your tryst with depression has put you dreadfully behind in paperwork and general duties of your country. The savage will remain here, I will make sure of it. Please, I've arranged your office for all the necessary work to be completed. Your country is your first priority."
France sighed dramatically rolling onto his back and looking towards the ceiling. Was he… pouting? A clear "Humph" was heard from the Frenchman before he rolled back onto his side, looking towards the American.
"Sadly mon chere, he is correct, I have long neglected my duties. France kissed America on the forehead softly before rolling the opposite way out of the bed, straightening his clothing as he walked around the bed to America's side. "Marin here will set you up with paper and ink. You should… You should write to Arthur. Let him know you arrived, and you are safe… and whatever else you need to get off your chest." France looked around awkwardly as he spoke. America nodded slowly, knowing it had to be done.
"I will return soon, I'll have Marin return in an hour or so to guide you around the property." France ran his hand down the length of America's arm, his touch lingering, taking just a moment longer to be with his beloved. He turned, walking briskly to the door. "We too have much to discuss Alfred. We will talk later." And with that he left the room, striding down the long corridor.
Marin on the other hand walked into the room with a scowl, making his way towards the regal desk in the back of the room he uncovered an ink well and pen, then pulled a small stack of paper from a drawer. He turned around to look at the American, now standing stiffly in the middle of the room.
"Do what you need to do boy." The words were spoken with such venom America felt the need to step back, feeling the hostile nature of the man as he walked out of the room. The door closed quietly, the soft click of the lock being turned. And then America was alone.
He walked slowly to the desk, as if the paper and ink was something to be feared; like a large spider or something that went bang in the darkness. He sat gingerly in the chair, letting his hand caress the fine craftsmanship of the chair, the beautiful carvings enhanced with fine painting. Nothing short of the best for France.
He sighed, staring blankly at the paper for what seemed like hours. What was he supposed to say? America had done a terrible thing to Arthur. And if what Arthur said that night so long ago now was true, he was about to break the Nations heart.
When Marin entered the room later that evening he found a pile of crumpled paper crowding the desk, America's head rising, then dropping to the table top with a thud. He repeated the action; rising, dropping, thunk, over and over again as Marin walked into the room, carrying a tray of food for the new guest. He set the tray down on a side table, sighing as he walked over to the desk.
America's head was in mid air as Marin caught it, a gentle hand cradling his forehead. "Savage. I am under the impression that you do not possess enough brain cells to be putting those you have in such danger." America sat up, his head hung low like a scalded child. Marin gathered up the scrap papers and dumped them in the trashcan nearby.
"Savage, what is frustrating you so? You have made your bed, now you need to lay in it."
America shook his head, not wanting to disclose such things to a man who felt the need to call him 'savage'.
"That's quite enough of this sulking young man." Marin spoke sternly, pulling the corner of the chair and turning it so he could face the American. He bent he knees, getting down to the level of America.
"What is the problem little savage?" America was about to protest again, pull away and tell the horrible man to go away, but when he looked up, he didn't see the hostility, or the anger he saw earlier.
"I don't know what to say. I don't even know where to begin. For god's sake I don't even know what's going on… how am I supposed to tell the man that gave me everything, that used to be my everything, that I want to be with the person he raised me to hate?" America looked away, his shoulders slouching further down in despair. Marin pursed his lips grabbing the pen from the table and placing it in his open palm, wrapping America's fingers around it.
"Well little savage, you tell him what happened. You try to explain to him what changed. You tell him how you feel." Marin turned the chair back to the desk, and moved the young nations arm to dip the pen gently in the well. "You tell him how you feel, and you hope he understands. That is all you can do." He patted America on the shoulders gently before walking to the door. "Francis has sent you up some food, feel free to nibble."
America nodded turning his head slightly towards the door. "Merci Marin." He spoke quietly before the door shut. America took a deep breath, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach at the thought of food. Marin had given him some valuable advice, and America had a nagging feeling he didn't want to feel the wrath if he didn't put that advice to good use.
Dear Arthur,
I keep hearing your lecturing voice in the back of my head, I know what you would say, if this situation included someone else. My actions on that night, so many nights ago now, was inexcusable. I was rude, and my decision was so rash.
I can't imagine the amount of pain you must have felt that night. I finally laid with the man I loved all my life, who had loved me his whole life, who had held back and restrained his own feelings to keep me safe and innocent. You chose to finally reveal your feelings for me, and I turned away from you so easily, for a man you hate. I know I can never ask your forgiveness Arthur, for I have caused too much pain.
I myself don't even know how this happened Arthur. When Francis came for me, and took me away from you, I was sure you would soon be on the horizon, looking for me, but you weren't. And as the days went by, I learned so much about Francis I never could have experienced. I saw his perversions, yes. His love of social status, spending money foolishly, and general lack of any direction. He is so opposite of you Arthur, I understand now why you hate him so. But Francis has shown me so much more of himself. His generosity, his love of friends, to laugh and make laugh, his dedication to social and political issues, his willingness to share. Though I showed him nothing of myself, Francis let me in, he taught me of his country, his customs. Let me attend important meetings, let me participate.
He treated me as an equal Arthur. I can never be your equal.
I feel as if you are a star so high in the sky I could never possibly reach that height, and that you will always look down to me, a little star to be manhandled and treated like a disposable pawn. I think eventually that's what drew me to Francis, he treated me like the most precious gem, his most prized possession. However he also treated me as his equal, heard me as a valuable person, and looked at me like a lover.
I cannot change what has happened Arthur. Know that I do love you, but Francis now holds a special place in my heart that was previously untouched. I wish to be with Francis forever.
I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you Arthur, I hope we can speak again some day, as equals.
-Alfred.
America breathed in deeply as he signed his name, his eyes moist, threatening at any moment to spill tears. He slowly folded the letter, his bottom lip quivering with emotion, remembering how England had taught him to fold the paper in 3 sections to fit the envelope perfectly. He slid the letter into the envelope slowly his breath ragged, his emotions raging within his body. He placed the envelope down on the table top delicately, then made a dash for the bed. Burying his face into one of the soft pillows, he willed himself not to cry. The damage had already been done, his relationship with England would never be the same, and yet he still felt so strongly for the older man.
America took a deep breath, steeling himself against the tears. He inhaled again, France's scent filling his lungs, soothing his mind and calming his body. He sat up slowly, looking towards the tray of food, but he no longer felt hungry. He settled down into the bed, burying his head in France's pillow, breathing his scent in over and over to keep his thoughts at bay.
It felt like hours before Marin unlocked the door and entered the room. America didn't bother looking up knowing it wasn't France. "The letter is on the table. I can't look at it."
Marin nodded his head even if the brash nation couldn't see. Walking to the desk and slipping it into his jacket pocket. "I shall have it sent as soon as possible. Come now I will show you around so you will not be too lost on your own."
Slowly, America pulled himself from the plush bed and followed Marin out the door.
Marin slowed his walk to match the American's stride, gesturing to certain rooms, pointing around corners, explaining what the eyes could not see. They passed the library, though most of the literature was in French, so it would be some time before America could read anything there. They passed the kitchen, Marin introduced him to the head chef, America waving nervously at the large man. They passed the many guest rooms, the offices, the storage, the fitness room, the dining room, the waiting room, the living room, which washroom was closest to which room. They passed France's study, the door was closed and America was now allowed to enter. France had important things to do, that America's presence would almost certainly disturb.
Marin took America to the outside, the swimming pool, the tennis court, fencing range, the stables, and the garden. America was amazed by it all. England's house was large, he had many of the same rooms inside his house, but France's felt bigger, grander, or maybe it was just the lavish décor? The outside was much different. France's yard was larger than the one he was used to in England. England's house was mostly garden, the man loved to tend to his gardens in his spare time. Of course, at America's request as a child, a pool had been installed. A place had been cleared in the corner of the yard for playing football, England often scolding young America for kicking the ball into his gardens.
With his thoughts leading back to England America could feel his awe at France's home fading. He felt himself instinctively looking around, his hand grasping for France's, who had been there for so long whenever America felt lonely.
Marin must have sensed this and began the long walk back to France's rooms.
"I will send Francis back here as soon as he has properly finished. You should have some of the food I brought up while you wait, maybe bathe. Your things have been placed just in the closet over there." America nodded, turning to walk over to the bed when he felt Marin take hold of his wrist. He turned America towards him, looking him straight in the eye as he began to speak.
"I have lived in this house my entire life, My father served Francis' father, as I serve Francis. I have been with Francis his entire life, through the good and the bad. I love him as if he were my own flesh and blood. You hurt him, little savage. You will never know the state he was in when he arrived here, on his own door step. I cannot promise I will not cause you harm if you do such a thing again. Tell me, little savage. Do you love him?" His eyes were deadly serious, looking into America's soul, searching for an answer.
America pulled at his captured wrist but Marin did not relent. He stuttered, suddenly he felt very fearful, not being able to look away from Marin's steely gaze. "I-I… I th-" America stumbled over his words, he couldn't even admit it to himself, how could he admit it to this man under so much stress. "I-I think s-s-so." Looking into Marin's eyes he knew that answer was not good enough. "I think so. I just… I just know I never want to be away from him again." America pulled his wrist from Marin's grasp. He couldn't do better than that. He was still confused about his feelings, he couldn't even begin to explain them to a near stranger.
Marin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hope you figure it out soon." He straightened up and turned quickly, closing the door behind him, leaving him alone.
America decided first thing in order was to eat. It had been so long, and though he was hungry earlier his foul thoughts had ruined his appetite. He nibbled on what food was there, finding certain spreads and crackers he knew he liked, some fruits and a small glass of wine. When he felt his stomach was satisfied, he turned to look at the room, what now?
America decided to explore the large room. There were 3 doors he had not seen into, he figured one exit was the balcony. He tried there first, the double door opening easily as he stepped out onto the balcony. America took a few deep breaths, looking out over the landscape presented to him. It was almost completely dark, the sun gone from sight, only a few rays still casting light upon the land. America looked about while he still could, seeing the vineyard below stretching out far into the hills. A gust of late summer wind blew across America, tangling his hair and blowing it across his face. America scoffed, turning around and walking back into the room to fix his hair.
The second door was to the closet, his meager possessions had been folded and hung in a small corner of the closet, but America felt that this would soon change, as France would not allow him to have such a small wardrobe.
The third door was to the bathroom. It was big, so much larger than the small cold thing England had. The entire room was marble, a large chandelier hung from the ceiling glittering light into the room. The bath was large and upon further inspection America learned that there was a small coal bed beneath the bath to keep it warm for longer. Dipping his finger into the water he found it was still warm. America decided there was no better time to bathe than this. France would probably not be back for hours, so America would have plenty of time to relax and wash.
He stripped his clothes, embarrassingly dirty from his travels, and laid them down beside the bath. The warm bath was like something from heaven, having only used cold dirty water to wash on the ship. America felt his eyes close in comfort as he wiggled into the warm water. He laid his head back against the edge of the tub his body relaxing, the water lapping at his chest, trying to sooth his troubles.
It felt like hours, but what in reality was only minutes, when America flinched hearing a knock on the door. "Alfred? Alfred mon ange, may I come in?" France spoke softly from the other side of the door.
He was asking, it was clearly a question. America was sure that if he said no, no matter how bad the French nation pouted, he would respect his answer and not enter.
America froze in shock, it was too quick, and he needed more time. "Uhh… Um… just a- hold on. Umm…" America sat up, thinking quickly. Did he want France in there with him? In the bath?
"Alfred?" Came the soft voice again.
America sighed "Umm… ok…" he spoke the last part quietly, hoping France wouldn't hear it, biting his lip in nervousness.
France of course heard him but he entered slowly, looking around the room till he spotted the smaller man in the bath. France couldn't help the perverted grin that split onto his face.
"I see you are waiting for me mon ange." He smiled slowly moving towards the bath.
France watched as America moved to cover himself. France chuckled bending slightly to be on the same level as America, his hand gently caressing the brash nation's cheek. "Surely you cannot be embarrassed Alfred. It is nothing I have not seen before." America blushed and turned away. "May I join you?"
America shivered, France's voice had dropped to a sultry level, and America found he could not deny the man. He nodded slowly, hands still covering himself, eyes turned away from the now undressing France. America could feel himself blush as he heard the tell tale sounds of another body entering the bath.
"Come here Alfred, please… Do not feel scared." France moved towards America gently placing his hands on the blushing, hiding mans shoulders from behind. "Si'll tu plait Alfred, let me hold you."
He was practically begging, and although America was nervous, he relented, taking a step backwards into France's warm arms. America's breath caught in his throat as his body was pressed up against France. He could hear France let out a soft sigh, long arms wrapping around him, gently caressing his shoulders, arms, and then torso. America sucked in a breath as France's hands wandered his torso, long fingers brushing his skin making him shiver.
"Francis…" America tried to say something, but stopped, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.
France chuckled, the rumble moving through his body and into the American's. He let go enough to turn the younger man towards him. "Hmm, this is much better. To be able to look at your beautiful face." France smiled, suddenly surging forwards and crushing his lips to America's. Shocked at first, America's hands came up in defense, gipping France's shoulder's tightly, their mission of guarding his manhood all but forgotten. When the shock had warn off, France was pleased to feel the American relax, those soft pliable lips opening of their own accord, the tense hands gripping his shoulder softened and wrapped around his neck.
France wiped the nervousness from America's head, his tongue working magic, playing against the American's in a slow dance. He could feel the American melt against him and the Frenchman could not have been happier. France pulled away momentarily, kissing America's forehead, his cheeks, neck, nose, jaw anything his lips could reach, all in between soft words of praise. "I am so happy you are here Alfred." More kisses, feathering over his entire head.
Alfred gasped, his eyes shooting open in surprise as he felt France's hardening length brush against his own. "Francis I-" America tried to speak, only to be cut off with a kiss from the nation of love.
"Alfred." More kisses feathering over his face. "Alfred, don't be afraid of the pleasure. I want you to feel nothing but pleasure always. Let me share this pleasure with you Alfred." France moved his mouth to America's neck, kissing, licking and nipping gently at the skin there.
America didn't say anything, so France took his silence as permission to continue, listening intently to his lover as he shifted his hips forward, grinding his own member against the American's. France smirked into America's neck, relishing in the gasp that flew from the young blond's mouth. He did it again, thrusting against America, loving the noises he was creating.
"Let me show you real pleasure Alfred. Let me show you passion." France whispered into America's ear, hot breath ghosting against his skin as France's hand reached down, grasping both their members so suddenly.
"Francis!" America cried out for France, his loud voice echoing in the large room. The sudden new pleasure, and the realization of rubbing against France was almost too much.
"Let yourself feel the pleasure Alfred." France spoke, his hand beginning to stroke both their hardening lengths. America's breaths began to come in short pants, his eyes now sliding closed as France continued to kiss and nip America's neck. "Let it envelop you Alfred." France began to move his own hips, a low drawn out groan from America spurred the Frenchman further. "Let yourself drown in the passion Alfred. Drink in the pleasure." America tried to turn his head away from the sinful voice.
"Don't- mmm, say such things Francis." Those dirty words would be the American's undoing.
Francis chuckled again, increasing the speed of his strokes, biting in a spot he knew was particularly sensitive. "Alfred." He whispered again his hand leaving America's back in favour of a pert nipple. America moaned loudly as those long fingers went to work. "Alfred let show you what real pleasure is. Let it move through your body. Let it light a fire inside you. Let it consume you." America moaned again, the sinful words making the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and the feeling in his vital regions spiral out of control.
France knew America was close, his panting breaths, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, quiet moans mixing in with loud ones, America's own hips unknowingly rocking against his own. And France was not far behind, sharing this intimacy with his love was more than he thought it would ever be and he could feel himself balancing on the knifes edge.
"Alfred. Alfred mon chere." There was a quick tug to his length, a pinch to his hardening nipple, and a nibble to his sensitive earlobe. "Cum for me." With the pleasure overwhelming his senses, and that soft velvety voice whispering such hot dirty words, Alfred felt himself descend the icy spiral of orgasm, his entire body tensing as the shock ran through is body from toes all the way to his head, moaning so loudly he was sure anyone near by would hear it clearly. And then France, a quiet grunt and a bite to America's neck as he to spilled his seed into the water.
America leaned onto France, his body tired, arms loosening from around his neck and gently moving down his chest. He felt France lean down and kiss the top of his head, sighing and suddenly leaning forward, his hands wrapping around America and cradling him like a baby. "We seem to have dirtied the water." France grunted as he lifted America out of the water, holding his body close.
America shivered as the cold air hit is warm sensitive skin. France walked them out of the tub and over to the wall where he set America down on his feet on a towel, before wrapping the shivering man in another plush towel. America pulled the towel around his body tightly, trying to get warm.
He watched as France dried himself off, his lean porcelain skin now clearly visible for America. He was entranced, watching beads of water roll down that smooth back. Those long gentle limbs moving with such grace, the lean muscles rippling under flawless white skin.
France saw America's eyes wandering over his body and he smiled over to him. "I'm glad you like what you see Alfred. I will admit, I was some what worried." America frowned as France ruffled his hair with the towel trying to dry it off. America began drying himself off as well, ruffling his hair first, then moving to his torso and extremities.
It was France's turn to watch. France had seen America's body before of course, more than a few times now, but he thought he felt like he would never get bored of it. America scowled and turned around finishing his drying as France hung his towel. He pulled the towel out of America's hands hanging it up and lifting the younger man up again and walking him to the room, setting his precious cargo down on the bed.
America felt tired as soon as he hit the bed, his body cushioned by fine linen as France walked away, blowing out the lanterns that lit the room, leaving only a few to keep the darkness at bay. He walked around the bed and rolled under the covers, pulling America against his lean body. He kissed America slowly, tongue running across the soft lips of America almost begging for entrance. It felt just as America remembered, France's skilled tongue caressing and playing with his own, making his mind blank as France wiped all his worries away. It felt like hours before the two broke apart, slightly panting and flushed. France kissed America's forehead sweetly before lying back down and pulling the smaller blond closer.
America smiled, snuggling against France's body as he had imagined each night on the ship here.
"Goodnight Alfred. Je t'aime" France closed his eyes a soft breath leaving his mouth as he settled down.
"Goodnight Francis…" America felt like he needed to reciprocate the last words, but he found they stuck on his tongue, no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. He wasn't sure if France was waiting for the same words, or if he had simply wanted to wish him goodnight, but America gave up, closing his mouth and eyes and trying to let sleep wash over him.
See, that was really long! And there is still more! A lot more!
Tell me what you think! Please!
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Mostly, this is my way of interacting with the readers, getting opinions and, updating you on what i'm doing. So go look for me? .com
-Majestic Moose Out-